Left, Right, Left
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Oneshot. Lost in the Nevada desert, all Tim has in a familiar cadence to keep him going. Yes, he's in Nevada. No, there is no ocean.


**A/N:** This is a oneshot I wrote in an effort to set a story in an area about which I actually knew something. So...this takes place in northern Nevada in an area known as the Great Basin. I'm from the West and this area really is as dry as I'm depicting.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own NCIS. I'm a poor grad student. If I owned NCIS or was making money off it in any way, I wouldn't be a poor grad student... I'd be a rich one. :)

* * *

**Left...Right...Left**  
by Enthusiastic Fish

The desert stretched out in front of Tim in a sadly unbroken view.

_This is ridiculous_, he said to himself. He looked back behind him at the equally unbroken expanse found there. _I work for the _Navy_, not the Rangers or the Army or any other land-based group. The _Navy_! I should not be lost in a desert!_

He looked around, trying to decide which way to go. There were mountains in the distance, but that wasn't particularly helpful because there were mountains of some sort in every direction, and he doubted he'd be able to make it to them all in his current condition, i.e. no water, no food, no sunscreen, no clothes appropriate for such a journey. Why was it that villains had to be so inventive when it came to killing someone off? A bullet to the head...now there was a way to go, not step by burning step through some barren wasteland. Granted, he had run part of the way himself...but it wasn't as though he'd had much choice in the matter. At the time he had thought he'd get away. He shook his head in dismay. _So much for that idea._

He looked around again. What were the odds that they had moved him to the other side of the interstate? When they had started their investigation, they had been on the south side. That would mean going north to get to a place with a possibility of human presence...but he'd been unconscious. What if they'd moved him somewhere else? If only it were night. He was sure he'd be able to tell which direction to go. There was a factory of some sort out there somewhere...probably northwest of him. There were also a couple of homesteads. However, there was also an added chance of finding the interstate. He sighed. Of all the people on the team, he figured that he was probably the one with the least ability to get out of this alive. Ziva...she grew up in the desert. Gibbs was...well, Gibbs could do anything. Tony might be annoying and a loafer, but he also had a lot of experience. He sighed again. He couldn't just sit out here in the middle of nowhere. He'd fry.

_I'll probably fry anyway._

He looked around again. North was probably his best bet. If he was south of the interstate, then he might just hit the road eventually. If he was north, he might hit the factory...or he might be able to find the solitary farm that was out that way as well. If he went south, he would either hit I-80...or he'd die before he could get to Eureka, which was the closest town to the south if he remembered the map correctly. _Okay, then, north it is._

He began to walk, trying to pretend that he didn't already feel parched.

After a while, he noticed that he had begun chanting to himself under his breath. It was a chant he hadn't used since hiking in scouts, but here he was saying it again. How sad that he was using up precious brain cells for this.

"Left...left...left, right, left. I left my wife in Argentina with fifty-two kids and a laughing hyena. I thought I was right... right... right in my country and whoop-de-doo!"

The ground was so hard. Why couldn't it be a little more springy? A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face...no doubt the first of many. Still, he kept on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Left...left! I left my wife. I had a good home and I left...that's right...I had a good home and I left...that's right...I left on my own and it served me right. Left, right, left, right. Left...left, to the left, right left."

Not a cloud in the sky. Tim was sure that at any other time he'd be enjoying this. After all, DC had been terribly cold and rainy when they left. However, it seemed as though there was as much heat coming up from the ground as there was coming down from the sky. He wiped his face again. There was a damp patch on his back. At least he was walking away from the sun...not that it mattered all that much.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I left my wife and forty-two kids on the verge of starvation with no gingerbread. Would I be right? Right...right...right...right..."

Tim trailed off. It was taking way too much energy to keep saying that aloud...but the rhythm would not leave his mind. Over and over again, he found himself taking slow careful steps. _Left, right, left..._

He'd been walking for nearly two hours when he came to his first real decision: go around the mountain in his way or cut through, following the sad remnants of a trail? He wasn't even sure how far around he'd have to go. Nevada geography had never been high on his list of information to learn...so much the pity. All he knew was that he was somewhere in the Great Basin.

_Left, right or straight through?_ He didn't want to go right. There was nothing to the east but more mountains. To the left...there was another road somewhere west of where he _thought_ he was. North was still his best bet, but that would require actual climbing. He grimaced. There might be shade through the little trails in the mountain...but at a hundred plus degrees would shade really help? ...but to the west...what if the mountain didn't end? What if he just kept walking along it until he got to the Sierra Nevadas? He laughed to himself. He'd probably die before he got that far. He wouldn't make it all the way across the state. His feet hurt. He'd long since abandoned his jacket, although not before ripping a piece out of it to tie around his head. At least it kept all the sweat out of his eyes. He was so hot and sweaty. _Left or straight on?_ He looked back and forth between his choices. An hour later, he would have just gone left to save energy. An hour earlier, he would have just gone straight to save time. He was at the point where he didn't know which way was best. He was working on the assumption that he knew more or less where he was...but truthfully, he had no idea. This was nowhere near where they'd been investigating.

_Left or straight on?_ Tim took a step...and then another faltering step...through the mountain.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Bad choice..." Tim gasped to himself another hour later. "Bad choice..." This was a lot how he'd pictured Arrakis in his head. No water...no people. He wouldn't mind running into the Fremen. They knew how to survive in the desert. "Not much further..." he lied to himself. The mountain wasn't really a mountain. It wasn't much higher than the surrounding land, perhaps a thousand feet...but it was taking Tim forever to get through it...up and down through what he now suspected were runoff paths, not trails. What person in his right mind would hike in this place? He couldn't keep up a rhythmic pace on these paths and the cadence faded from his mind.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." he muttered to himself and took another step...which turned into a stumble when the ground ended up being lower than he thought...which turned into a fall when he was too tired to catch himself...which turned into a brief tumble down the most recent hill into an unfortunately-dry gully. Tim pulled himself to his feet, wincing, but noting with relief that nothing appeared permanently injured. The last thing he needed was a broken leg. He looked around at the narrow passage he was following. He should have just gone around, but there was no way he was going to try going back through that trail again. He took a deep breath and continued on...and on...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"They must be looking for me," Tim said aloud another couple of hours later. He had finally staggered out of the mountain/hill about half an hour before. He had been so happy about it. But now...now, there was just the endless barren expanse ahead of him. "But will they know where to look? _I_ don't know where to look." He kept walking..._left, right, left..._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Not...another...hill..." Tim panted. The sun was on the way down now, but it was still hot, still bright, and he was still lost. This was a small hill at least. He could go around without any trouble. He began to trudge along his chosen path when he stopped. This hill looked...fairly high. Maybe he could get his bearings, see where he was. Of course, that would mean that he had to _climb_ said hill but it might be worth the effort. He paused and breathed for a few seconds and then began to climb, knowing that if he stopped once, he'd never get going again. He climbed and climbed. It seemed to take forever. Finally, before he realized it, he was at the top. He almost started down again before he noticed. He regained his feet and looked around the barren landscape. Nevada was so..._ugly_. How in the world had anyone ever made it to California through here?

Then...he saw it...or rather he saw them. Off in the distance, seemingly out of reach was a dull green smear. _Green!_ That meant _water_ of some sort. Then, much nearer, he saw a road...a _road_, sign of civilization... perhaps not in the recent past, but it must lead _somewhere_. It didn't seem to lead to the green smear, however. There was the conundrum. Green or road? Just because there was water didn't mean it was fit to drink. It was more than likely alkaline or something else equally poisonous...strangely enough at that moment poison didn't seem like a good reason not to drink the water. The road might lead nowhere...but it was closer.

He looked around once more and then, to put off the moment of decision, he shouted out:

"There ain't no flies on us! There ain't no flies on us! There may be flies on some of you guys, But there ain't no flies on us!" Unfortunately, there was no answering yell, not even an echo. There was nothing for the sound to bounce off. There was just the dry, hot air. It was like standing underneath a blowtorch.

Dejected, he took a step, not paying attention to the steep gradient...and summarily rolled the rest of the way down the hill. It was not pleasant. He lay motionless at the bottom for a long time. He tired, hot, so far past thirsty there wasn't a word for it, and now in considerable pain. His clothes were torn, bloody. It didn't seem worth it to get up again. Maybe he could just wait here until nightfall, when it got cooler...when all the bugs and animals started... coming... out... That was enough to drive him to his aching feet again. Tired and sore he might be, but he was not yet dead and he had no desire to see if ants or coyotes or vultures would really come and devour him like they did in Westerns. No way. Instead, he reoriented himself and trudged toward the road. His legs felt like blocks of lead...only heavier. Now, of course, with it being evening, the sun was right in his face as he walked in a northwesterly direction along the road...Willow Coral Pass, although he didn't know the name of it, not that it would have made him any happier if he _did_ know the name of it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Left...left...left...right... ...left..._

The only reason he could keep going was due to the fact that there was a slight decline. If he had been forced to face any measure of upward motion, he would have given up. As it was, he kept walking...

... _left...left...left...my wife...and..._ Tim suddenly felt the light leave his face. The sun was behind the mountains in the distance. What time was it? Middle of summer...probably after nine p.m. Not a single car on the road. He kept walking.

_Left...right...left...left...left...right...left..._ Then, not too far off, he saw a light. At first, he thought that he was finally seeing a mirage. He'd been quite disappointed that he hadn't seen one during the day. But...there...to the right...

..._right...did I do right?..._Tim tried to focus on the light. It looked like...a _house_...a house...with _people_ in it! He tried to speed up his pace, but the faltering stagger was the best he could do. He had no idea how far away it was...too far...too far away because he wasn't sure he could make it. He had stopped sweating, and even in his current condition, he knew that was a bad thing...but he kept walking...

_Left...left...I left my wife...I had...a good home..._

Dully, Tim noticed that the light was much nearer...but not directly in front of him. He turned. It took every ounce of control he had to turn his body off the road, but he did it. He walked...and walked...and walked...

Suddenly, there was an obstacle in his path. He didn't see it coming. He stumbled and fell...onto the porch of the only house within ten miles of his current location.

"Hello?" came a voice from within.

Tim couldn't make himself move anymore. He couldn't...but he tried. He tried to push himself up...but his legs would not obey. He fell back to the solid wood...so close and yet held back by three steps. Tim couldn't cry. For one thing, it took to much energy to cry. For another, it took moisture that he didn't have.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Light spilled from the front door as it opened and illuminated the sunburned and injured man lying, sprawled across the porch steps.

"Sir?" the teenage girl standing in the doorway wasn't sure exactly what she should do. "Mom! Dad! There's a man out here!" They ran from the front room, from the nightly news telling about the missing NCIS agent, Timothy McGee, and joined their daughter at the door. The father, Luke, walked out onto the porch and turned the man over. His face was red, as was his neck and arms. His clothes were torn in more places than they were whole. He was scratched and bloody...and...just faintly visible on the cloth on his head were the letters _NCIS_.

"Oh my gosh, it's _him_, the man from the news!" Luke exclaimed. "Jen, run and see if they have a phone number to call." He felt Tim's forehead, his arms, and then added, "Call 911, first. Tell them that we got a man with heatstroke." Then, he yelled back into the house. "Marc! Get out here! I need your help!" In seconds, a teenage boy, very similar in looks to the girl still standing in the doorway, joined the group. "Marc, help me get him inside. Michelle, go and start soaking some towels in cold water. We need to bring his temperature down."

"Luke, they're sending someone out here, but they're coming all the way from Battle Mountain. It's going to be awhile." She listened for a few more seconds. "The operator says that we should start treating him as best we can...if we know how."

"We know how," Luke said, smiling slightly. It was dangerous to live in an isolated place like this without knowing basic first aid.

Tim mumbled softly, "Almost there...almost...there..."

"You've made it, Mr. McGee," Luke said. "Just relax. We've got you."

Tim didn't speak again...not until they started to put the wet towels on his chest, his head, his back. He shivered and his eyes opened briefly, looking dimly around at his new surroundings. They found the eyes of Michelle and he croaked, "Water...please?" Then, they closed again.

Michelle looked to her father who nodded. She ran into the kitchen.

"Where did you come from, Mr. McGee?"

"Middle of nowhere..." Tim replied.

Luke felt the towels. They were warm. "Marc, go soak some more towels."

His son ran off as Michelle came back, carrying a glass of water. Tim opened his eyes and followed her progress.

"Now, I know you're probably very thirsty, Mr. McGee, but you need to drink this slowly...got that?"

Tim nodded, but Luke had his doubts and held the glass himself, forcing Tim to drink slowly...he tried to drink more and more, but Luke held the glass firmly and wouldn't let him take control.

"More?" he asked, once the glass was empty.

"Sure," Luke said, smiling. He held the empty glass out to Michelle who went off to refill it. "How long were you out there?"

"All...day..." Tim said. "It was hot the whole time."

"Unfortunately, that's not saying much for around here, particularly not at the end of July...and especially not in the hottest summer on record."

Tim grimaced and sagged tiredly. He shivered slightly as Marc returned and put more wet towels on him, but he only roused to drink more water. Michelle had simply brought an entire pitcher with her so that she could refill without having to run back and forth. After the third resoaking, Tim's body temperature began to fall and he looked less frail.

"How are you feeling?" Luke asked.

"I've felt...better," Tim said. Then, suddenly, he sat up. "Oh, no!"

"What?"

"Gibbs! He's going to kill me!"

"Who? Why?"

"My boss..." Tim looked around. "I need a phone. I need to call him. I've been gone all day. They're going to kill me!" He tried to stand up. The combined efforts of the Farr family kept him down.

"Stay where you are. We'll get a phone."

When Marc brought the cordless phone in, Tim took it, shaking with more than just weakness. He dialed the number and then listened with trepidation.

"Special Agent Gibbs."

"Boss?" Tim asked, his voice still cracked from his extended dry spell.

"_McGee?!_" Tim wasn't sure what to make of the exclamation._ "Where_ are _you?"_

"Well, I'm..." Tim looked around. "I'm not really sure. In a house...in the middle of nowhere."

_"What?"_

Tim looked at Luke. "Where _am_ I?"

"About 30 miles east of Battle Mountain as the crow flies and 10 miles south of I-80. ...basically, the middle of nowhere."

"The middle of nowhere."

_"That's not particularly helpful, McGee."_

"Sorry, Boss. I've been having a bad day," Tim said and then heard Tony's voice in the background asking if he was okay.

_"How bad?"_

Tim sighed. "Well...let's see...I got hit over the head with a rock, driven out into the desert, left there to die and then walked a million miles through the desert with no water, no food, on the hottest day of the year. I'm currently sitting on the living room floor of the only house within who knows how many miles and hoping that these nice people currently staring at me are not going to make me walk anywhere...ever again." Tim managed to quirk a small smile at Marc and Michelle which was returned by the two teens.

Gibbs was silent for a long moment. Then, he asked, _"Are you okay?"_

Tim thought back to everything that had happened in the last 24 hours and bit his lip. He didn't want to leave a bad impression on these nice people by crying. "I think so." He paused. "Where are you?"

He could hear Gibbs' grin as he asked Tony. Tim grinned himself as he listened to Tony's reply: _"Tell McGeek we're somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The road is called Willow Coral Pass...but I haven't seen a single willow tree, and I doubt this place has seen coral in the last million years."_

"Willow Coral Pass? Never heard of it," Tim said.

Luke looked at Jen in disbelief. "Mr. McGee, that's the road you would have walked on. We live on Willow Coral Pass."

Tim's eyes widened in amazement. "Boss?"

"What, McGee?"

"What direction are you driving?"

_"South-southeast. What was that road we just got off, DiNozzo?"_

Again, Tim could hear Tony's distant, sarcastic reply: _"Maidens Grave, and that's probably an accurate description of what happens on it. There's nothing out there."_

Tim looked at Luke again. "Maidens Grave? Onto this road? Going south-southeast?"

Luke laughed. "Tell them to keep driving. We're about a mile from Maidens Grave here."

"Boss, you're not going to believe this but you're about a mile away."

_"Wait, I see a house up ahead. A bit off the main road?"_

"Is this off the road?"

"If they see a house, it's ours," Jen replied drily.

"That's it!"

_"Turn there, DiNozzo!"_

_"Why?"_

_"That's where McGee is! Turn!"_

_"On it, Boss!"_

A few minutes later, Tim heard tires crunching on the gravel of the driveway. He didn't try to get up. That still felt beyond him. In fact, it was all he could do to stay awake at this point. Only his desire to see his team again kept him from sagging back against the couch and sleeping for the next week...or two.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs pounded up the porch steps and knocked on the door. Tony was following so close behind that he nearly tripped over Gibbs in his eagerness to see that Tim was okay. He wanted to be able to call Ziva and lord it over her that they had found Tim first...although it looked like he had saved himself.

The man who opened the door looked amused at the two men standing on his porch.

"You must be Gibbs," he said.

"McGee is here?" Tony asked.

"Yes, that way." He pointed and the two of them rushed by him.

Their first look at Tim was a bit of a shock. He didn't look too bad, considering how bad he _could_ have looked, i.e. dead, but he wasn't at his best. His face, neck and arms were burned. He was wrapped in towels. His discarded shirt was bloody and torn to shreds. His pants didn't look much better. His feet were bloody and blistered, his woefully inadequate shoes laying beside his shirt. He had the look of someone who was on the limits of his endurance, but when he saw them he smiled.

"You look _terrible_, Probie," Tony said finally.

"I feel better than I did, Tony," Tim said, "but I'm not surprised. Where's Ziva?"

"Walking through the desert," Tony said, grinning. "She drew the short straw."

Tim managed a laugh, but it swiftly turned into a monstrous yawn. "I'll bet she had better shoes."

"Definitely."

"How far did you go, McGee?"

Tim yawned again. "I have no idea. I went north until I hit the road. I climbed a mountain, fell down a hill, and walked..._a lot_. Other than that, I can't tell you." He looked at the empty pitcher. Michelle saw his glance and sighed, but got up and went into the kitchen to refill it.

Luke called after her. "Michelle, get the Gatorade instead." He saw Tim's surprised look and explained, "You need more than hydration, Mr. McGee." He looked at Gibbs and Tony who had knelt beside Tim. "There's an ambulance on the way. I think he's past the worst of it, but he _should_ get checked out."

Tim took the offered Gatorade and chugged it. Gibbs reached out and pulled it down. "Don't drown yourself, McGee."

Tim grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Boss. I...I'm thirsty." He started to drink again, but more slowly. When the bottle was empty, it slipped from his grasp and his eyes started to close. He yawned again. "Tired..."

"Then, sleep, McGee. That's allowed."

"Thanks, Boss," Tim mumbled. As he drifted off, he began to chant, "Left...left...I left my wife in Argentina..." A cavernous yawn... "...with 52 kids and laughing hyena..." Then, his head fell back against the arm of the couch.

Everyone tried to hold back their laughter. When the ambulance arrived, the EMTs said that Tim would probably be okay but that they should take him to the hospital just in case. Tim woke up briefly when they put him on the stretcher. He looked at Gibbs and Tony and smiled sleepily.

"How'd I do?"

"Great, McGee," Tony said.

Tim smiled again and leaned back against the stretcher. The day was over. He was okay.

FINIS!


End file.
